


Swim Into the Smoke

by dotfic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-11
Updated: 2008-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving them was beyond your grasp, like saving Dean had been beyond your grasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swim Into the Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: Title is from Conrad Aiken ([poem here](http://www.blackcatpoems.com/a/1915_the_trenches.html)). Lots of thanks to [](http://luzdeestrellas.livejournal.com/profile)[**luzdeestrellas**](http://luzdeestrellas.livejournal.com/) and [](http://batyatoon.livejournal.com/profile)[**batyatoon**](http://batyatoon.livejournal.com/).

You lie on your back in the half darkness, your chin and lower lip still aching. In the other bed, your brother's asleep on top of the covers, fully clothed. His mouth is open slightly, face gone smooth.

* * *

For the first nineteen days after you buried Dean in a pine box, shallowly because you refused to give up, you kept his amulet in an envelope. For the first nineteen days you never took it out, never looked at it – it stayed tucked in your backpack. You couldn't look at it, couldn't bring yourself to touch it.

Then one day you did, held the amulet and let it dangle from its cord. You clenched it in your fingers before you put it away again.

You ignored Bobby's phone calls, reminded yourself to eat, and you hunted. Always, you hunted. Performed exorcisms, put your fingers against still-warm throats after, and if you found a pulse, your heart would beat faster and your eyes would sting with the held back tears. _Just this once, please,_ you prayed, every time, and sometimes they lived.

More often, they didn't.

Saving them was beyond your grasp, like saving Dean had been beyond your grasp.

It was only after Ruby returned to you, in this new, dark-haired host, her voice softer than you remembered as she flinched at loud noises, that you put Dean's amulet on. It was only after Ruby watched you fail again, and asked _how'd you like to find a pulse more often, Sam?_ Only after she said, _let me show you,_ and taught you what you could do, what was running through your veins.

You let her teach you.

You had to save _someone._

So you put out your hand and pulled a demon from a human body without touching, without Latin, just by wanting it. Watched the circle of red embers on the floor burn out and realized you were shaking, right before the headache slammed in.

The host survived.

The next time you did it, you were wearing Dean's amulet, hoping – well, you didn't know what you were hoping. That it might protect you. That it might remind you who you were while you did the things that would have terrified your father the most. That the slight weight of it, hanging from its cord around your neck, might be an anchor, a reminder. Always tugging, you'd like to believe, between you and your brother's soul.

Ruby told you where Lilith had sent her, told you something of her torment. There were reasons she jumped at loud noises and seemed to lack the energy to insult you. You listened and you tried not to think about what might be happening to Dean.

You almost welcomed her presence, her slow nod of approval from the shadows, and you almost missed how she was before. You were careful not to touch her, careful not to think about what a potent a way of forgetting she might be. Wondered if her mouth tasted like sulfur, wondered how her body would feel pushed up against yours. Instead, you found willing girls in bars, the kind that wouldn't care if you didn't talk much and left right after.

Using your power scared you, most of all the way it felt when you let it run free through your body, warm and heady. It was like touching fire and not getting burned, and you stopped wondering that your father could fear what you might become. But you had Dean's amulet around your neck and you were saving lives, certain that you were going to decide how much you used it, how often.

So certain, that when Dean returned, you handed the amulet over without hesitation, put it back into the hands where it belonged, felt safe and less scared of yourself. The amulet was only a worthless piece of metal after all (and it was worthless, it hadn't saved Dean) but you'd given it to Dean, it meant something to your brother.

You kept on using your power, balancing out your failures. Your confidence grew, knowing your safety net was there. Your unease grew, knowing what you were doing to Dean. Every time you snuck out, every time you raised your hand and let loose this unspeakable thing within you, you remembered what you'd made him promise.

But you were saving lives.

When your brother found out, you weren't surprised to find him looking at you like you were something strange and other. It formed a cold knot of dread in your stomach and you'd give anything if he'd stop looking at you like that. You'd thought you were ready to face that, to face him. But none of that, not even when he punched you, was as bad as when he grabbed the angel's words and flung them at you, when he invoked God. That was when you saw how deeply frightened he was. If Dean had found faith, that wasn't how you wanted it to happen, and you doubted he really had.

When you told Dean you were giving it up, you meant it. Just like you'd meant it when you'd said _we'll find a way to save you, Dean, I'm not letting you go to hell._

You went to Ruby and you told her you were going to stop.

All of it, everything.

You held up your hand and she choked out your name before the black smoke started to pull from her mouth. Then you closed your fingers into a fist, couldn't do it.

She fell to her knees as you lowered your hand, the breath rasping in her host's throat. She looked up at you with relief, fear, and shocked betrayal.

* * *

You lie on your back in the half darkness, your chin and lower lip still aching. In the other bed, your brother's asleep on top of the covers, fully clothed. His mouth is open slightly, face gone smooth.

He hasn't been sleeping much lately, and when he does sleep, it's often restless, which is unusual for him. Right now, though, he's out completely.

Right now, this sliver of time, it's easy. There is possibility. Your brother's peaceful, he's _alive_ , and you strain to catch the sound of his breaths beneath the distant rush of cars on the highway. Right now, you don't have to deal with how he looks at you, the doubt and worry, and worse, the confusion, as if he's trying to figure out who you are.

Turning over, you close your eyes, curl your loose fingers into a fist, clench your panic tight. Dean's always told you, screw that destiny crap, you can choose. That's exactly what you've been doing, but you can't make Dean see it. You won't put him through this, you won't face him with the burden your father left him, or with the promise you'd pulled out of him.

If anyone takes you out, it'll have to be the angel. You open your hand, breathe deeply, and try to sleep.

~end

ETA: I meant to mention this when I first posted. This is intended as a companion piece to my Dean 4x01 coda, [The Taste of Water](http://dotfic.livejournal.com/164238.html) (each should stand alone though).  



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